


Life Is Gone With Just A Spin Of The Wheel

by Whatevergirl



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Light BDSM, Lingerie, Multi, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatevergirl/pseuds/Whatevergirl
Summary: After learning her father had cut Ransom out of his will, Linda decided it would be a good learning experience for him and cuts him off from her fortune.As Ransom tries to navigate the drastic changes to his life, he also has to work out how to have a serious relationship where his partner is a PI.For his part, Benoit knows they have stuff they need to discuss, but he tends to find himself distracted when he sees his boy stripping off both his outer clothing and his public mask to settle down for the evening.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Ransom Drysdale
Comments: 18
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Chris Cornell's You Know My Name.

Benoit grunted as he rolled over, unused to sharing his bed with anyone. The addition of another body raised the temperature under the covers uncomfortably, and the kid had wriggled into the middle of the bed to curl around the older man, his bare skin still sticky with sweat.

But fuck if Ransom wasn’t pretty to look at, his muscled form lax in the sheets as his eyelashes fanned out over flushed cheeks, his pink lips parted slightly as he slept; even the loud, heavy breathing and occasional snorting wasn’t enough for Benoit to sleep in the guest room. 

He yawned as he glanced out the window where he’d not yet shut the curtains, at the lightening sky as dawn approached. It had been a little over two weeks since he’d tied up the loose ends of the Thrombey case and handed the last of it over to Lieutenant Detective Elliot, with the writer’s son set to answer for the attempted murder of his father and the brutal assault and murder of the housekeeper, as well as his increasing less subtle threats and eventual attack of the young nurse who had cared for Harlan Thrombey, and he'd taken a chance straight after and called the number that the Harlan's oldest grandson had slipped him.

“Why you ‘wake?” Ransom grumbled as he peeled himself off the PI and stretched on his back, his bare skin mouth-wateringly tempting in the low light as he flopped limply on the mattress and stared up at him. 

“Thinkin’.” He replied simply, as he twisted over to run a hand down over the boy’s ribs, pressing at the soft skin, then skimming his thumb up to rub over a sore-looking nipple. 

Ransom let out a soft moan, before shifting away. “Need a drink.” He explained as he headed into the small bathroom. Benoit ignored the temptation to move as the younger man used the toilet and drank several glasses of water, instead allowing his mind to drift to his current case, where he was trailing a man with a clear gambling addiction to see if he was engaging in any acts of infidelity. He’d spent the past week in various clubs and dens, watching the habits of people who had fallen prey to the highs of winning and the false hope of constant success. 

“Need me to go yet?” Ransom asked as he leaned against the door frame, his naked body clean from the remnants of the night before, effectively wiping out all thoughts of work.

Benoit smirked as he slid out the bed and stalked slowly over to him, his eyes trailing up and down the attractive form. “You can stay awhile.” He stated as he leaned in to bite above his collarbone, satisfaction flooding him as the young man moaned and caught himself on the doorframe as his knees evidently buckled. Ransom had a bunch of erogenous spots that he’d never properly explored, but Benoit was determined to find and enjoy them all.

He stepped back and the kid followed him, slack-jawed as he allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed. “Fuck me, you are a fine looking boy.” He exclaimed softly as he paused to look him over. “Or should I say, fuck you.” He added in a murmur as Ransom whimpered slightly, his cock hardening slightly as he spread his legs. 

He allowed the boy a chance to pull him close, grunting in pleasure as those large hands kneaded into his shoulders, sliding down his back to hang onto his ass as Benoit leaned down to steal a kiss from his boy’s panting mouth. Bracing himself on one arm as he sucked on Ransom’s lower lip, he lifted one hand to squeeze a nipple, smirking as the boy moaned and tore his mouth away.

“Please! Shit, please!” He yelped, his erection pressing into Benoit’s belly as he wrapped his legs around his hips. 

Flicking the bud, Benoit shifted down to press the tip of his tongue against it. “Please what? Tell me what it is you want.” He commanded in a slow drawl, ghosting his lips over the reddened tit. 

“I- I don’t… Just, touch me, fuck me, do something! Please!” Ransom’s hands dug into his shoulders, but Benoit held off moving them for the moment.

“Please…?”

“D... Daddy. Please Daddy.” He whispered, and Benoit knew his boy’s face would be red again; that vulnerable need would be written all over it.

“Good boy.” He praised softly, grinning at the moan in response. His boy’s daddy kink had not been a surprise, but the way he surrendered himself to Benoit’s authority was as perfect a thing as he could ever imagine. “Let Daddy take care of you.” 

He fastened his lips around the boy’s nipple to suckle at it and pressing down enough to scrap his teeth across the sensitive flesh as well. “Please. Please!” His boy begged above him as he scratched the nails of his spare hand along Ransom’s inner thigh to caress the back of his knee. 

“Hold onto the bed frame.” He instructed as he pulled away, giving the tit one last nip before blowing on it.

With his arms stretched above him, the boy could have been featured in a magazine. 

“Should get you some panties.” He murmured as his eyes dropped to the leaking erection that stood before him, imagining it encase in delicate lace. “Something pretty for my little boy.” Maybe a matching top, something in a see-through type fabric so he could still look at his boy properly, the firm muscles and his tight, little nipples that stood to attention whenever he so much as breathed on them.

“Yes! Oh, please, Daddy. Yes.” Ransom groaned, pre-come dripping as his eyes slid shut. 

“You like that?” He asked breathily, grabbing the lube from the side-table and coating his fingers. “You like the idea of dressing up pretty for little ol’ me? All wrapped up like a little gift waitin’ to be opened up?”

“Please…”

He pressed a finger into the boy’s ass, still fairly loose after the pounding it had taken before they had gone to sleep. “Maybe I’d even get you a full outfit to wear over the top, one of those sweaters you like so much while I feed my little boy his dinner, with a toy deep inside so you’re ready for me once we’re all done.” Ransom moaned as Benoit spread his fingers inside him, his chest heaving as the older man teased him.

“Y-you could play with me.” He said, trying to hold his hips still as lust-blown eyes focussed solely on him. “And th-then bath me.”

“Mmm… I’d take care of you, real good. Dirty you up and put you away nice and clean.” He growled softly as he sat back and opened the condom wrapper. “You don’t need to worry about doing anything ‘cept what I tell you to.”

Once he was slicked up, he settled between Ransom’s legs and began to carefully push in, aware that his boy liked some pain, but that he would still be sore from their earlier activities… Besides which, he rather liked teasing the boy; he struggled with patience at the best of times but here, where he had surrendered to Benoit? He simply had to take what he was given. 

“Want to be good for you.” Ransom whispered when he was fully seated, waiting for the boy to adjust. 

Benoit leaned down to press a kiss to the kid’s lips. “You are. So good.” He assured him, running a comforting hand over his thigh as he started to rest a little more of his weight on the boy; Ransom was more than a decade younger than him, but the kid was stronger than him and more than willing to do anything Benoit told him to in the bedroom.

Pinning the young man with his weight as best he could, Benoit began to shift his hips, rolling them gently as Ransom relaxed underneath him. “All the toys.” He growled as the boy looked up at him with heavy blue eyes. “Not just somethin’ up your ass, but something to keep your tits hot.” Nipple clamps; he’d dated a woman years ago who had loved them, but he hadn’t really understood their appeal then; but now the idea took new form in his mind, and the thought of making his lover thrash desperately beneath him was an attractive one.

“I- I’ve never tried that.” Ransom gasped as Benoit pulled out slowly and slammed back in. He wasn’t too surprised to hear it; for all he had slept around with plenty of women, the kid had never been with a man before Benoit, but he had a mild pain kink and a willingness to try new stuff. In Benoit’s opinion, it was a perfect combination. 

“You’d be so pretty.” He stated as arousal burned through him and he began to speed up. “Lying there in your panties with clamps hanging from your tits. I could use them to drag you around.” For a moment, he imagined having the kid blind-folded as he took him from room to room, but that was one thing Ransom didn’t like, being unable to see what was going on.

“You c-could use…” he cut off with a gasp, but he tilted his head back and gestured to his neck with one hand. “To pull me about…”

“A collar?” He asked in surprise, pausing in his movements for a moment. Ransom moaned in response, and he smirked. “You want to be owned like that? My collar around your neck so everyone knows who your Daddy is?

“Shit!” Ransom slammed his eyes shut as his back arched, as their talk apparently pushed him close to the edge. “Daddy, please.”

“Mmm. You’d be perfect. My boy sat with lacy underthings on under his clothes, with a toy up his ass and clamps holding those tits.” He squeezed one with the hand he wasn’t bracing himself on, gripping it roughly as he fought to stave off his finish. “You’d look all respectable ‘cept for the white, leather collar round your neck, showing you are owned. Maybe I’d keep you in it all the time, so you’d answer the door in it, go to the shops in it, go to work in it. Tight enough so you don’t forget about it.”

Ransom’s hand slipped between them as he began to jerk himself off, incoherent moans falling beautifully from his lips as his legs clenched tightly around Benoit’s hips. Unable to fuck the boy so easily, he leaned down to bite Ransom’s neck as he scratched his nails over the boy’s pecs. 

With a wail, the kid came over him, legs flopping to the side as he relaxed, and Benoit smirked at the vision before him. “You are a sight.” He murmured, a slight hitch in his voice as his need to come wracked his body. “A pretty, perfect sight.”

He shifted so his arms were braced either side of Ransom’s head as he began to piston his hips, enjoying the slide of the boy’s ass as he chased his orgasm. 

“Just for you, Daddy.” Ransom whispered up at him, his expression utterly trusting as he allowed his body to be used.

“Fuck.” He hissed, dropping down to mouth at him as his release flooded through him and he shuddered to a stop. “You…”

He sighed as he allowed himself a moment to relax; it had been too long since he’d been in a relationship and while he’d never been anyone’s daddy, he couldn’t deny how much he loved it… He was kind of looking forward to spanking the kid’s fine ass… 

Pulling out, he tossed the used condom into the bin and shifted to rest his head on the kid’s shoulder.

“You sure like the idea of panties.” Ransom’s voice permeated the silence soon after. “You’ve said about them a few times.” He sounded curious, almost hopeful as he ran a hand along Benoit’s spine.

“You ever tried them before?” He asked sleepily.

“Yeah, with Jodie.” Jodie had been Ransom’s longest relationship, she’d been his mommy and his domme, but that relationship had ended nearly eight years ago. “I’ve not worn anything since then but…” He hesitated, the breath shaking in his chest as his hand drifted up to rub Benoit’s hair. “It was… it made me feel… pretty? ‘Cept that’s not the right word.” 

“Sleep on it.” He advised as his eyes slid shut, raising one hand to tap comfortingly at the kid’s chest.

Ransom sighed, but the comforting motion of the kid’s hand lulled him into sleep and if there was any more conversation, he missed it.

\------

Ransom sighed as he slipped his cell back into his pocket; Sam and Luke still weren’t talking to him. They had been his friends for more than a decade but when he explained his situation, they had laughed at first then apparently decided to cut off contact with him.

His situation was pretty shitty though. His grandad had cut him out of his will, his mom had decided this was an excellent idea and had cut him off from the money she had given him too, his dad had apparently been having an affair and now their marriage was on the rocks, his Uncle Walt had tried to kill his grandad and the old man’s nurse, and had actually killed the housekeeper… and now his friends weren’t talking to him.

“How you doin’?” asked Callen as he wiped his hands on an old towel, working at the spots of grease on them.

“Do you think…” Then he hesitated. Tyler and Callen ran the vintage car garage he was at; he’d helped out here for years without taking pay, but now his parents had cut him off, he was taking a wage. With his Sam and Luke ignoring him, these were the closest to actual friends he had left. “Is it weird? Me and Benoit?”

He chickened out of asking about how to keep his finances in order, discussing money with them after he’d had to go and ask them to pay him felt tacky. It was something he wanted to talk about, but he wasn’t sure if he could bring it up to his mom; sexuality wasn’t something they had ever discussed one way or the other. 

“How’d you mean?” Callen asked, leaning against a cupboard as he tossed the rag into the used bucket. “Your ages?”

“Yes… well, no.” He frowned, trying to get his thoughts together. Yes, there was nearly thirteen years between them, but that didn’t bother him at all; trying to connect to anyone was a difficult thing to do, without restricting himself to people around his own age. “I mean… Well, how do normal relationships work?” His voice crackled slightly as he showed more emotion than he had meant to. “We see each other a few times a week and usually spend the night. Is that too fast, or too slow? Or…”

“Or just right for you?” Callen gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be honest, kid. There is no right or wrong answer. You’ve been together for what? Three, four weeks? It took me and Tyler years to spend that much time together, but that was decades ago and a lotta people weren’t okay with our type of relationship then. Then you get some people who are in it for sex only and don’t spent extra time together at all.” He clapped a hand to Ransom’s shoulder. “Go at your own pace kid.”

He sighed as he crouched down to help clear up the socket and ratchet set, running his fingertips over the smooth metal. “What if we move at different paces?” He tugged the lid shut. “It’s really hard to talk about.”

Callen hummed softly before shuffling over to drop into a chair and gestured for Ransom to join him. “Have you asked each other date questions yet?” Ransom raised his brow, on most the dates he’d been on, sex questions were the ones people asked to check they were compatible. “I mean, questions about hobbies and interests? Favourite authors or TV shows? Perfect vacation? What are you real proud of?”

“Huh…” It sure was a lot to think about, getting to know someone from scratch. “I know some stuff about him.”

“How about questions like would you ever want to live together? Do you ever think about kids? Stuff like that.”

“Kids?” His jaw dropped slightly, as he wrapped his arms around himself. He didn’t mind children himself, but he couldn’t imagine Benoit wanting to raise actual, human sproglets with him.

“Try this. Print a list out, one for each of you. Then you can score each of them one to five.” Callen’s voice was calm as he made his suggestion. “One being a hard no, two a probably not, three is you don’t care, four is maybe and five is definitely. You could circle any deal breakers.”

“A list of questions.”

“The big questions. Do you want to live together? Do you want pets? Do you want to go out on dates? Do you want an exclusive relationship? Do you only want to be pitcher? Would you want to try bondage? Or ball-gag-”

“Yep! Thanks!” He yelped, cutting the older man off as his cheeks burned with embarrassment. Callen threw his head back and laughed as Ransom scrubbed his face.

“You can probably find a list online of questions to ask at the start of a serious relationship.” The man explained as his chuckles settled down. “And you repeat the exercise every six months, or every year so you both know if there are any changes because, Ransom? You are allowed to change your mind about things in a relationship, but it helps to let the other person know.”

“So I could circle cheating as a deal breaker, but can move having kids from a three to a two if I decide to?” He checked as he waited for his blush to fade.

“If you print out a list that has some ambiguous questions on, maybe make note of why you answered a certain way. Some people might say yes to name calling in sex, but excluding certain words.”

“There’s a lot more talking than I thought.” He murmured, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I know. But it’s good to get it over and done with, especially in the run up to Christmas.” Callen pulled himself up, rubbing at his hip as he headed over to the till. “You get yourself away now. I’ll close up here.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’ll see me Monday. I’ll have Mike with me tomorrow. He can pull his own weight for once and actually earn his pay.”

Ransom sighed. Mike was a lovely guy, but lazy right down to his bones; Ransom didn’t want to think of Callen moving the heavy engine out without decent help, even if he did use the crane. But he also didn’t want to overstep his bounds. He swiped his clock in card through the reader and tapped to end his shift on the screen. “Call me if you need me though.”

“Off you go.” Callen said with a find smile as he headed over to his bimmer. 

On the road, Ransom’s head buzzed with possibilities. He liked the idea of printing out a relationship questionnaire, the thought of knowing exactly where they were would be comforting if they were in the same place… but what if they weren’t? What if Benoit just wanted someone in his sheets for a time before he moved on, while Ransom was thinking about something long-term? His stomach churned at the thought of finding out. 

Benoit was working on his case tonight, so Ransom headed back to his own small apartment; pitiful in comparison with his old home, but far cheaper and he was able to put a chunk of money straight into savings. Fucking savings. He resisted the urge to growl as he pulled into the building’s parking lot, swiping his access card and heading over to his spot. Figuring out finances was a whole new ball game and he felt like he was left trying to understand the rules when no one was willing to hold still long enough to give him anything decent. 

He’d set up a savings account; he was working on getting a new health insurance policy (his old one had dropped him when his parents had); he was buying food and paying for his new mortgage (as the people he’d sold his old house to were paying for it a bit at a time); he had to pay for gas and electricity and his cell phone bill and what felt like a million other little things that all seemed to add up inexplicably. Once a week, he sat and checked his receipts actually matched what had come out his bank account (and realised once that he was still paying out on direct debit for something he didn’t need). He’d abandoned his plans to get a cat (so much more sophisticated than dogs, he’d always loved cats)…

But for all he’d lost large portions of his life, Callen and Tyler had agreed to pay him so he could keep his hobby of working on vintage cars rather than getting a dull job somewhere else, and he had Benoit… which honestly felt like too much of a good thing; when they were together, he was able to relax, but time spent apart left him thinking of how much it was going to hurt when the older man came to his senses. 

As he locked the door and slipped his shoes off, he checked his cell again… None of his old friends had answered his messages today either.


	2. Chapter 2

Benoit sighed and arched his back uncomfortably; sitting in a car every night, waiting to take photos of a man was not the most exciting thing he had ever done, but he’d keep at it for another week and if he still hadn’t found any evidence of cheating, then he’d go back to the wife (Mrs Cunningham, or ‘Lindsey’ as she had insisted) and tell her so. 

Not to say he hadn’t found any secrets; Paul was a gambler and was currently on a losing streak, but he had cut back on how much he spent and was working extra hours to try and earn the extra money. Benoit was sat outside his office where a fairly small social media channel was housed, Paul likely still either editing videos or fact-checking for the script of a new one. 

Unfortunately, it was approaching midnight and the man was still in the office block, unless he had headed out the back but that way led to a back alley with dumpsters that always seemed to be overflowing; the smell was foul and so he had set up a motion sensor camera, below the old CCTV camera that actually still worked and stayed away since then. The only time he’d seen Paul head that way, it had been to chuck a bin bag into one of the dumpsters, and he’d had a sleeve pressed firmly against his lower face to try and block out the smell, so Benoit didn’t expect him to try that way unless it was an emergency.

Hesitating for only a few moments, Benoit decided to go see if there was anyone in; after all, the light from the window to Paul’s office was still on and the blinds were open but it was nearly three hours later than he usually stayed for a late night. Locking his car, he moved smoothly over to the building opposite, an old factory that was set to be converted into a hotel. On the outside, there was a rickety, metal ladder tucked away behind the building. It led to the roof, where he could creep carefully over to look into the office blocks across the street.

He grit his teeth as he climbed up, the cold metal separated from his skin by his gloves, but the roof itself was a sheet of ice from the recent rain and freezing night. Was it really a good idea to try and cross this? Probably not, but he didn’t want to be sitting in his car if he didn’t need to be. Tightening the strap of the camera across his chest so that it wouldn’t swing as he moved, Benoit began to crawl up the saw-tooth roof, dropping down the short way for each window before climbing up the next section of roof. 

It was cold up here and his breath wasn’t enough to warm his face, so he paused and adjusted his scarf, wriggled his fingers and moved over the final section of roof. Hooking his elbows over the peak of the roof, he rested his camera on the slates and changed the lens so that he could zoom in with enough focus to actually see inside.

He couldn’t help the rapid intake of breath as he noticed the blood splatter on the walls, red on the cream-painted plaster and dripping down the posters. On his work cell, he called 911 as he also sent a message to Elliot from his personal one.

As he spoke to the operator, he took photos of the crime scene as best he could, then began to make his way carefully back along to the ladder, using a combination of upper body strength and any handholds he could find to pull himself up the window sections before sliding down the slates, which were now so icy that he couldn’t stop his descent. 

Scrambling inelegantly down the ladder, he headed back to the main street to wait for the police to arrive.

“I thought the plan was for a quiet case.” Elliot commented sometime later, as they sat at his desk, looking at Benoit’s photos of the victim, waiting until daylight before they went to speak to his wife; they had tried to phone her several times, but she hadn’t picked up. 

“That was the plan.” Benoit admitted with a shrug as he removed the SD card from the camera that had been hidden in the alley.

Elliot eyed it, looking slightly disgruntled. “I can’t believe you stuck an extra camera round the back.” But he took the card and inserted it into the computer, waiting for it to register on the monitor. 

“I put it near a sign sayin’ ‘Beware, cameras operate in this area’.” He pointed out through a yawn. “Seemed to be the best place for it.”

“Go over his regular routine with me again.” Elliot pressed a pen to the notebook and waited.

“Paul usually got up around 7.30 at his home on Pine Way. He’d have toast then head to work for 9am, stopping at Starbucks for a coffee on the way. He’d typically be there till about 5pm, maybe longer, dependin’ on how long he took for his lunch, and then he’d do one of three things. Sometimes, he headed home for the evening and spend it with Lindsey, his wife. Sometimes he went out for dinner then returned to work for overtime, which is what he started doin' this week, but looking at records, it seems this is something he does every few months. Or he would head out to a casino, Bet-King off Chestnut Avenue and an unnamed one on Park Street being his favourites.”

“Man. I hate gambling jobs.” Elliot sighed as he ran a hand over his head. “Half the people we talking to are allergic to the truth.”

Benoit gave him a sympathetic smile. He knew Elliot was supposed to have a lie-in this morning but had instead gotten up early at his own behest. They’d known of each other before, but the second best thing to come from the attempted murder of Harlan Thrombey was his friendship with the Lieutenant Detective. 

“I’m going to get coffee. Want one?” Elliot pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up slowly, smothering a yawn as he went.

“Please. One sugar, no milk. Would you mind me borrowing your printer? I have something to run off and I don’t think I’ll be getting to the library today.”

“Sure. Send it to print and I’ll collect it on my way back.”

Ransom had sent him some questionnaire and asked him to print two copies out as neither of them owned a printer. He hoped it meant the young man was thinking seriously about where their relationship was going, but it was honestly the most official entrance into a relationship that Benoit had ever had. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing though, to check where they were both at and where they wanted to go, even if it was usually something verbally discussed rather than filled out on a piece of paper. 

As he glanced over the questions on the screen, he knew he’d fill it out anyway. Maybe a piece of paper was the best way to start this discussion for Ransom; the kid struggled with his emotions sometimes, bouncing between inappropriate amusement and overwhelming anger at the drop of a hat and Benoit wasn’t sure if it was nature or nurture that contributed more to it. Some people struggled to keep a lid on their emotions despite their parent’s best efforts to help… and Benoit wasn’t even confident that Linda and Richard Drysdale had been hands-on in raising their son. He was willing to bet Ransom had been raised by a stream of nannies who stuck around till they couldn’t cope with him anymore, because while he could see maturity in some of his actions, he had blatantly been a little shit as a kid and was only just learning how to move on from it.

“I sure hope no one looks at what I’ve been printing out.” Elliot’s amused voice came from behind as he handed over a mug of coffee, then the papers that had been tucked under his arm. “I’m not real sure how I’d explain it.”

The first page were just the basic questions, some with a one to five scale to circle, others with a gap left to write something: How do you feel about living together? How do you feel about kids? Do you prefer to be the one buying groceries? What is your favourite way to show affection? What is your favourite way to receive affection? Where do you see yourself in five years?

The second page was decidedly more risqué to print out in a professional setting, but Benoit hadn’t looked at that one yet. It had the one to five scaling with space for any notes underneath: Do you like to be the dominant partner in a relationship? How do you feel about condoms? How do you feel about gags? How do you feel about handcuffs? The list went on and it was a good job Benoit didn’t blush easily, because he’d be fire truck red otherwise.

The third page had few questions, but more space for answers: What do you think makes you most vulnerable in a relationship? Are you aware of any personal flaws that may affect a relationship, and how can these be understood/ worked around? If you have had a difficult day (give specifics if necessary), how would you prefer your partner to act?

He sighed and took a sip of his coffee. 

“You still seeing that Thrombey kid?” Elliot asked, looking curiously at the sheets of paper. He nodded in response, taking another drink in the hope of combatting the weariness that was setting in. “Lotta questions there.”

“I’m not sure he’s ever been in more than one proper relationship, and that one…” He hesitated, not too sure how to phrase that the kid had been happy in it, but there had been an imbalance of power that had never been properly discussed between the two. “It wasn’t bad, but I think he needs the reassurance.”

Elliot nodded, his face kind. “That family was something else.”

“So, come Hell or high water, I’m gonna finish this… but it may have to wait till I am actually awake.” He was exhausted and he had a feeling Ransom was going to read through the answers carefully. The kid had asked for honesty with it, which meant he would have to take the time to think. 

“It’s nearly six. We should try calling round the house as she’ll be getting up soon.” Elliot decided, draining the rest of his mug and standing again.

Benoit followed suit, tugging his coat back on and folding the papers up into his deep pockets. “She’s goin’ to wake up to a lotta missed calls.”

Elliot sighed. “I know. Hopefully she’ll have someone to come be with her.” 

They’d filled out the necessary paperwork already, as far as they could for the night but there would be more work to do once they had spoken to Paul’s widow. 

“So, how is the kid doing since Harlan was nearly killed? I often wonder how families get on once everything settles down.” Elliot wondered as he and Benoit drove out to the outskirts, where Paul and Lindsey Cunningham lived.

“Only talking to his Grandad right now.” Benoit replied. 

“Yeah? He out of hospital yet?” He stopped at the red light, glancing over at the PI.

Benoit shook his head. “No. But he’s out his coma so Ransom went to visit.” He’d come straight over to Benoit’s home after visiting, struggling to balance the anger and despair he’d been feeling. Benoit wasn’t exactly an expert at helping other people regulate their emotions, but he’d held the kid through his tears then fucked him after he’d sat in his lap and made his want known.

“Fell out with the rest of them?” Elliot asked as he took a right into the quiet estate.

Benoit shrugged and admitted “They’re as puzzlin’ to me as algebra is to a dog. I’m sure it all makes sense to them, but it’s hard to explain to someone who can’t read the words and doesn’t speak the language.” He knew Ransom had actively fallen out with his parents while his parents weren’t talking to each other but both of them insisted that it was best for Ransom to try out the world on his own, like they had. Except Ransom had tried to explain that his mom had received a loan of her dad to set up her own business and while his dad worked for the business, he had very much married into money. As to Ransom’s relationships with his other relatives, Benoit hadn’t even tried to understand that yet; he’d only been talking this candidly with the kid for about a month now and they didn’t linger on difficult topics for long.

Maybe filling out this questionnaire would be a good thing; a place to start when it came to talking.

They pulled up in front of the house, but both men paused a moment before getting out. Giving a death notification was never a pleasant thing, but when the wife had been suspicious enough of her husband to set a PI on him? Benoit had a feeling that she would feel an unfair weight of guilt over whatever had happened.

They knocked and waited. 

It was cold enough for Benoit to see his breath, but the curtains were still mostly shut so the woman was likely still in bed. He knocked again louder this time as Elliot tucked his hands into his armpits. 

“Mrs Cunningham?” Elliot called, tilting his head back in the hope of being heard through the windows. “Car’s on the drive so she should be here.”

Benoit moved over to the window, glancing in the gap where the curtains hadn’t shut all the way. “Oh Lord!” He stepped back, a hand over his mouth. “She’s not going to answer.”

“Double murder?” Elliot asked before he even looked in. He sighed. “Poor woman. Let’s call it in.”

\------

_‘Dear Mom,|’_

The straight line of the cursor blinked at him as he stared at his phone screen, trying to think of what he wanted to say. There was so much that he wanted to put into this email, but he had no idea how to start it without sounding clunky and awkward; Mom didn’t like that. She could forgive awkwardness in conversation, but if you took the time to sit down and send an email then you had the time to think about phrasing. 

He hadn’t even thought of a subject line yet. 

‘Please talk to me’ sounded desperate, but that’s what he wanted. He’d gone for months without talking to her in the past, but having had Thanksgiving with just Benoit had been eye-opening; it had been hard. As fond of the older man as he was, it was the first time Ransom had ever had Thanksgiving without his parents there, and he wasn’t even sure if his mom had had anyone there with her. 

His dad could fuck off for all he cared, anyone who thought it was acceptable to cheat in a relationship, especially one that had lasted as long as his parents’ had? They weren’t worth his concern. Thinking about it made him angry enough to want to hit stuff, to grind his teeth and crack the plaster on the walls.

It was why he’d finally sent Benoit the questionnaire to print out after hanging onto the one he’d put together from ones he’d found for nearly two weeks. It felt bold to demand answers like this, but he’d sat at Thanksgiving last week with his partner beside him, wondering if his mom been eating alone…

So he wanted to mend the cracks that they had all tugged on, because he knew that his parents were owed some blame in their terrible relationship, it wasn’t all solely on him. He had large areas to work on and so did they.

So he was trying to email his mom and explain some of that without coming across as a whiny child. He wasn’t going to mention his money troubles, the fact that he wasn’t sure he was doing it right, and that his attempts at budgeting had him skipping lunch on a regular basis until he figured things out better. He wasn’t going to tell her about Benoit yet, especially not until he knew if Benoit was looking for a long-term relationship or was just after a bit of stress relief; and he certainly wasn’t going to admit to any details of what they got up to. It wasn’t because Benoit was the first man he had ever dated, that there was a thirteen year age gap, or even that he was with the guy who had taken control of the investigation that had seen his uncle arrested… It was more that it felt too new, too delicate a thing to risk opening up to anyone about. 

He could maybe tell her about his job working on vintage cars… he’d been volunteering there for years, not something he’d ever have been confident enough to apply for a job in before (and he could almost imagine his family’s disdain that he enjoyed being a mechanic, working on cars), but he’d asked when he needed money, and Callen and Tyler hadn’t hesitated to take him on officially. They both said they would have been happy to pay him something since he had first started helping out, but Ransom hadn’t wanted his name on paper here in case anyone found out. Maybe he was growing up, but he just didn’t care anymore. He loved what he did and he was endlessly thankful to the older men for taking him on. He wasn’t even sure how legal it was for him to have been working on customers' cars without any qualifications and when he wasn’t really supposed to be there, but they had kept him and they had taken time to explain how the different parts worked, why some varied from newer models and which cars he couldn’t use the more modern technology on. 

He owed them a lot, so he was damn well going to tell his mom about them.

_‘Dear Mom,_

_I hope you’re well. I heard from Grandad that Dad hasn’t come back yet, but that was about a week ago so I’m not really up-to-date. I’m not sure how much you know of everything that went on five weeks ago, but Grandad told me about changing his will to include Marta, that he was cutting everyone out._  
_When I talked to Marta about it, she said it had more to do with us than her, which was a good point. I’m not real sure how to go about it, but maybe we should try and be the family Grandad can be proud of?_ \- (Not that Ransom knew what else his mom could do, but Grandad had cut her out too, so either he thought she would be fine, or he had a few details that he wanted to clear up with her.)-

 _My life is totally different to how it was. I remember what you guys all said about having a job and leaving the country club and quitting drugs. I’ll admit I did do drugs once, but I stopped that 8 years ago when Karim died from a bad batch (I don’t know if you remember him, but we were friends since elementary school). I moved house, so if you need to see me, you’ll need to get my new address. I don’t go to the country club anymore, and I’m not sure if Sam and Luke are ignoring me because of it or if it’s just a fluke and they changed their numbers; there have been break-ins where they live._

_I also have a job. I work for 2 amazing guys called Tyler and Callen in a vintage car garage. I get to see all sorts of cars, and because it is specifically for vintages cars, we get the time to really check the cars are in good shape before we send them back out, rather than trying to get through as many cars as possible in not enough time, like normal garages seem to._

_I’m thinking about taking up a hobby, or a group or something on an evening, because I don’t want to work all the time but I don’t really like just sitting at home and staring at the TV_. -(Ransom sighed as his thumbs hovered over the screen. He liked watching a movie curled up beside Benoit, but the older man was currently out in the evenings for whatever this case was, then getting in in the early hours, but even then they were only meeting up three or four times a week so he still had the rest of the week where he sat in front of the television and stared at stories that he just couldn’t seem to get invested in. He kind of wondered if that was why his mom was a work-a-holic who had never been home on an evening, even when she’s had a young son waiting for her.)-

_I’ll try and email again maybe next week but I hope we can meet up around Christmas._

_Thanksgiving was a little lonely._

_I love you._

_Hugh Ransom Drysdale.'_


	3. Chapter 3

Benoit grunted slightly as he shouldered open the door to his apartment; it always stuck in winter with the cold, damp weather, but he’d never got round to making his landlord do something about it. He’d never even thought about it until Ransom had mentioned it a few weeks ago.

Ransom… He sighed. The boy had been quiet for the past week, and they hadn’t met up either. A glance at his phone told him there were no messages, but he pulled it out and phoned him.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Where are you?” He asked, trying not to sound too gruff. 

“Uhh. At home?” 

“You happy for me to come a-visitin’?”

“I guess. Sure.” Ransom sniffed and Benoit frowned; that had sounded a little wet, as though he had been crying. 

“Well, it is Friday. You normally come by today, but I guess I come to you this week.” He tried to sound light, amused rather than concerned. 

“See you soon.” And Benoit grinned slightly at the smile in Ransom’s voice. He wasn’t quite sure what in particular had caused it, but he sure wasn’t complaining. 

He showered and changed into his favourite, if slightly worn slacks and a polo shirt before tugging on a comfortable blazer.

“Blanc? You in there?” A knock came at the door, so he slid back the dead bolt and nodded at his landlord. “You ‘ad a parcel. Came while I was getting my mail so I took it for ya.” 

Benoit took the plain brown box with a murmur of thanks and a slight smile. He knew what this was. Slicing it open, his breath caught slightly when he uncovered the silk garments, so smooth he barely dared to touch them.

He’d ordered some playthings for Ransom after they had switched questionnaires; Ransom’s had stated that he liked the idea of lingerie but he found the feel of lace to be scratchy and wasn’t sure if he wanted to wear it, no matter how hot Benoit made it sound when they were fucking. 

So he had gone for silk, baby blue panties and a loose white camisole that was soft enough that it hopefully wouldn’t distract his boy. He had a few other pieces to give him for Christmas, but he pulled out the brown paper that served as cushioning inside the box, and used it to wrap the gift up in. 

They had a serious talk to have, and then they could have some fun. 

When he arrived at Ransom’s home, he slipped his heavy, winter coat onto the hook by the door and left the gift inside the deep pocket before leaning down to kiss the young man. It had taken him nearly an hour to get here after phoning, and if Ransom had been crying, there was no evidence of it on his face anymore; just a shy, but warm smile as he held him close.

“Did you eat?” Ransom asked, stepping back and smiling down at him. “I was about to order pizza when you rang so I got you one too just in case.”

Benoit pulled him in for another kiss, pleased to see him again after a week and warmed his thoughtfulness. “I could eat.” He replied, his breath puffing over his partner’s red lips. 

“Come on then. I’m hoping it won’t be too much longer.”

He had to admit, he did like Ransom’s home. While it didn’t have a lot of stuff in it (there was one room with a desk in it, a few still unpacked boxes and nothing else), what he did have was incredibly comfortable furniture. When he’d sold his old home, he’d kept the tables, chairs, sofas and beds so that he could buy an unfurnished place for slightly cheaper, but it was all cosy stuff so Benoit could understand why he wanted to keep it. 

He got to the door before Ransom for the pizza, and their meal was quiet but comfortable; Benoit could feel the stress of the past two weeks slipping away as he finally relaxed.

“You sleeping, old man?” Ransom asked after a little while, and Benoit opened his eyes to see that the pizza boxes had gone and the speaker in the corner was playing quietly. 

He was quiet for a moment and simply held an arm out until the boy settled in beside him. “Perfect.” He sighed, as Ransom had to half lie on top of him to fit, even though his couch was wider than most. He couldn’t lie like this for long because Ransom was made up of heavy muscle, but he was content to feel him close for a while. “Think we need to talk though.” Ransom tensed up, moving to pull back, but not fighting when Benoit refused to let him. “Nothin’ bad, just want to clear a few things up.” And ask why the boy had been avoiding him, but he was hoping that this talk would shine some light on that particular problem. 

“Like what?” Ransom was still tense, but he cuddled in when Benoit began to rub a hand over his back. 

“Communication was on your list of things you’re none too good at.” He reminded his partner. “I’m just facilitatin’ this.” Ransom nodded, so he continued. “Do you realise that when I was answerin' those questions, it was with you in mind?”

“Well, yeah.” He sounded puzzled, but Benoit had a feeling he’d looked over the answers and dismissed the ones that didn’t match his idea of a normal relationship. 

“By that, I mean that when I have a bad day and like to relax with company, it means I enjoy spending time with you.” Not some random partner that Ransom had imagined in his head, but Ransom himself.

“Is this because it’s been a week since I messaged you back?” Ransom shifted so he was settled between the back of the couch and Benoit’s side. “I know you’ve been busy with that double murder thing and the news said that-”

“I’m interruptin’ here.” He cut in. “The news can say we’re as busy as bees collecting pollen for honey, but that’s only during workin’ hours.”

“And you’re happy to come here, or have me come to you after that?” There was a hint of wonder in Ransom’s voice, though his face was blank, all but confirming Benoit’s suspicions that Ransom’s past partners hadn’t wanted him around when they were stressed.

“I told you. I’m in this for the long-term. I’ll see you as often as I can, for as long as you’ll let me. If that’s for a few weeks, a few months years or even a few decades? I’ll take what I can get.”

“You!” Ransom almost yelped, but then held himself still. “You… might want to spend decades with me?”

“Yes.” He was blunt about it, and then held Ransom through the silence that followed as he processed it. It was information he’d put on that damned questionnaire that he had spent so long thinking about, but they never had gotten round to properly discussing things afterwards. “So why the silence?” He asked after a few minutes. “Was it because I was workin’? Because you were embarrassed after the questionnaire? Somethin’ else? A mixture of things?”

“I…” He hesitated, but then deflated as he apparently lost his nerve.

“Communication, you said. I don’t care if you think you’re dramatizin’ everything to make a mountain out of a molehill, I want to hear it.”

“Communication, I guess.” Then Ransom sighed, deflated again, but this time he kept talking. “I emailed Mom at the start of last week, but she hasn’t answered. My friends aren’t messaging me back anymore, and I think it might be because I got cut off, except they’ve stuck with me through worse stuff, like when I ended up in rehab and so I... and then money! You’d think I’d have a good grasp of it, cos I’m not an idiot, but it’s really hard. I know how much I’m getting without overtime, I know how much needs to go out. You said I should keep my receipts to check off against my bank statement, which I’m doing but I still can’t figure out the numbers.” He had wriggled down enough to hide his face in Benoit’s side. “It all gives me a headache.” He said, softly. 

Benoit reached up to run a hand through his boy’s hair, gently rubbing his fingers over his scalp. “I’ll help you go over your money until you figure it out, if needed. And have you tried actually going to see anyone? Face to face?”

“.... No.”

“You didn’t talk to me for a week, or answer when I messaged you. I called, came over and here we are.” He gave Ransom’s shoulders a squeeze before going back to petting his head.

“What if they don’t want to see me?” He asked, his voice raw with emotion. “I don’t think I want to hear that.”

“Hopefully they won’t say it, but if they are important to you, then go demand answers. One at a time, if you need to. And if you need to come see me afterwards, I’m hardly going to turn you away.”

“One at a time?” Ransom lifted his hand to rub over the button on the pocket of Benoit’s shirt, clearly thinking hard. “Mom first then. My friends are assholes and they can wait, but Mom…”

Benoit hummed when Ransom failed to continue without explaining whether he thought his mom was a bit of an asshole too, but still his mom, whether he thought she was just going through a rough time or something else altogether. Personally, Benoit thought Linda Drysdale was loving, but in a distant, almost cold way; completely different to her son, who liked to treat everything like it didn’t matter, possibly because if he let himself feel things, then he tended to feel them deeply. 

He felt the boy press a kiss to his ribs. “Thanks.” He sat up. “I’m going to go shower.” His eyes were red again, but Benoit didn’t comment on them.

“I have somethin’ for you.” He said, shifting out from under him and going to his coat. “To wear once you’re all… clean.”

He felt the first stirrings of arousal as he handed the parcel over, watching as Ransom hesitated then thanked him with a blush and took the still wrapped items into the bathroom with him.

\------

Ransom was half-hard just thinking about the underthings he’d unwrapped. They were unbelievably soft, and hopefully they were going to look as sexy on him as they did against the brown paper. He squirted shower gel onto his sponge and began to scrub every inch of his skin, taking an extra moment to enjoy the texture of it on his nipples. 

Fuck, he hoped the top fit. He was fine at judging t-shirts, but the top looked bigger than what he usually wore; it wasn’t made to cling to his waist like his t-shirts, instead it would swish around his torso. He whimpered at the idea. He’d always loved the look of lingerie, even though lacy stuff was uncomfortable. The thought of wearing something that was his own? Something he could wear under his normal clothes? Fuck! Arousal burned through him and he hissed, leaning both hands on the shower wall as he panted. He wasn’t young enough to come twice in one evening anymore, so he couldn’t waste it now. 

He put the sponge down and grabbed the shampoo, deciding to hold off touching anymore of his body until he was further back from the edge. With fingers scrubbing foam into his scalp, he took deep breaths, trying to consider something else…which was difficult when he turned enough to see the baby blue and white fabric on the counter through the fogged-up shower door. 

Maybe he should shave, he debated as he tilted his head back to rinse his hair. Ransom liked having his chest smooth, but he’d been too caught up in his own head to bother recently. His arms weren’t too hairy, but he’d tidy up his groin and armpits… There wasn’t enough time to do his legs, even though he liked having them shaved in winter, when no one was going to see him wandering about in shorts. 

Glancing down at his cock, he resisted the urge to tell it to behave before reaching for the shaving cream and a razor. Shit… he couldn’t wait to put Benoit’s gift into action, to sit in his lap in dainty things and rub against him. The razor glided over his chest as he imagined it, Benoit in his suit and Ransom in panties and a top; he’d be able to feel Benoit’s dick through the layers of clothing because the man was sizable and Ransom was more than willing to cling to him. He may not have been the most intelligent person around, but he sure as shit found astute and quick-witted people to be attractive. 

He washed off the rest of the shaving cream before clambering out the shower and dripping water on the floor as he reached for a small pair of scissors in the cupboard above the sink. The cool air prickled his skin as his tidied up his body hair, before half jumping back in the shower to warm up again, his cheeks flushing slightly as his excitement began to build again. 

He grabbed his sponge again and washed himself thoroughly, topping up the soap on it before cleaning his ass. He eyed the small bottle of lube he kept in here, before deciding to make a start; if he was this excited getting ready on his own, he wasn’t going to last any time once Benoit got his hands on him. 

He pressed his upper body against the wall as he slicked up his fingers, spread his legs and began to press in, moaning slightly at the feel. 

He allowed his mind to drift to Jodie in an effort to calm down slightly, his first ever serious partner once he had gotten out of high-school and the first person to ever put so much as a finger in his ass; she’d been a fan of sitting on him while he sat on a toy and he’d discovered the joys of his prostrate. Of course, he’d not bothered to keep it up after they had split, and no other partner had ever suggested it. However, he had recently made a new discovery: that getting fucked by a man was a completely different experience to being taken by a toy, or even by Jodie’s strap-on. There was something about having that thick body curled over him, that low voice rumbling in his ear while he snapped his hips that Ransom adored. 

By the time he had three fingers in, the hot water was running out, but the cool shower was pleasant against his heated skin. He reached out to tug the handle, shutting off the water, but he stayed where he was for a moment, panting heavily against the shower wall. 

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to take a long shower. He hoped Benoit wasn’t too bored, so he peeled himself off the tiles and grabbed a towel, dabbing at his skin as he combed his fingers through his hair. Would it be weird to clean his teeth? They both probably had pizza breath still, but he felt like it would help complete the look, or maybe the feel, of the outfit. He scrubbed the towel over his hair before grabbing his toothbrush. He tended to conk out after sex anyway, so it was probably for the best… He was going to have to lock up too, something usually left to Benoit, but his partner didn’t have keys or alarm codes for his apartment; they usually went to Benoit’s place as it was closer to both their workplaces, but Ransom was actually quite happy to be here for once. His bed was more comfortable, after all. 

Once he was clean and dry, with minty-fresh breath, he slid into the panties. They were baby blue and clearly made for men, as opposed to women, with extra fabric to hold his dick; there was already a bulge, but he’d settled down enough that it wasn’t too obscene yet. He couldn’t help gasping as he carefully pulled the top on; the band around the top sat comfortably across his chest, though he needed to adjust the straps to make them a little shorter, and the soft fabric flared out around his waist when he moved. It was a feminine item which had obviously been designed for men as well, and he loved it. 

He lifted his eyes to the mirror, grinning ruefully and the red blush that stained his cheeks and had edged down onto his chest, but he took a moment to fix his hair; he’d forgotten to put his comb back in here after he’d wandered off with it when getting ready for work this morning, so his fingers would have to do. 

Finally ready, Ransom stepped out, flicked the bathroom light off then headed through into the lounge, trying to control his shuddering breaths as nerves and excitement flooded through him. He’d been planning to toss a comment over about just locking up, but found he couldn’t make his mouth open when Benoit turned to stare at him. The younger man paused for a moment, feeling his blush deepen even more, before hurrying over to check the door was locked and bolted. The windows hadn’t been opened in the wintry weather, so he simply tapped his code in to arm the alarm system, took another deep breath and turned back to Benoit.

“You are a vision.” The older man rumbled, a fond smile spreading across his face, different to the stunned gaze of lust he’d been imagining, but also so much better. His nerves began to melt as he remembered that Benoit always saw him as more than just a body when they had sex.

“I really like it.” He admitted gently, pressing his hands to his sides to feel the press of the silk. “I never… Something that isn’t lace seems so obvious now, but it never occurred to me.”

“There’s plenty things we can try out.” Benoit assured him, standing up and holding out a hand to take his and pull him close. “Feelin’ luckier than a kid at Christmas already.”

Ransom laughed as he looped his arms around Benoit’s neck. “Think this may get a little hotter than kids want at Christmas.”

Benoit grinned, his mouth inches from Ransom’s. “No one else gets to have you anyway, regardless of age, in snow or sun.” And he pressed in to kiss his lips with soft, shallow movements that had Ransom sighing happily.

He pulled back and headed to the bedroom, switching the lights out as he went. Glancing back as he went to the bed and clicked on the bedside lamp, he smiled as he watched Benoit stripping efficiently; there was something undeniably hot about it when he undressed like he was on a mission, his eyes lingering on Ransom’s body. 

“Want me to…?” He gripped the bottom of the camisole rubbing at the hemline as he waited for an answer, but Benoit shook his head.

“My boy doesn’t need to worry about any of that.” Benoit assured him, pulling him in for another kiss, just in his boxer-briefs. “Let your daddy take care of it.”

Ransom moaned slightly at the words, spoken confidently in that low, gruff voice. He pushed the duvet onto the floor and settled on the bed, relaxing as Benoit groaned slightly as he stepped forwards.

“This is a sight I could get caught up in all day.” He murmured, almost too softly for Ransom to hear, before shucking his last bit of clothing and stretching out on top of him. If Ransom was being honest, he loved the feel of Benoit resting on him, loved the knowledge that even training at home instead of at the private gym he’d been in, he was still strong enough to hold his weight. “A vision.” 

Ransom tilted his head back slightly, wanting a kiss as Benoit’s hips began a lazy rocking, his erection rubbing at the silk of Ransom’s panties. “Please.” He whispered, trying to keep his legs in place rather than circled around the older man’s hips; Benoit’s right hand was stroking his thigh and he wanted to be good for him, to do whatever he wanted. 

“Knew these colours would be good on you.” Benoit whispered as he kissed and nipped his way down to the edge of the camisole. “Not girly colours, cos you aren’t a girly kind of guy, but you are pretty.”

Ransom moaned, half wishing Benoit would just rip the top off so he could press up against his skin.

“Not pretty.” Benoit corrected himself, in that low voice that always heated the blood in Ransom’s veins and sent arousal surging through him. “Beautiful.” He kissed Ransom’s nipple firmly. “A vision.” His hot breath puffed across the fabric, sending a shudder through the younger man. 

Benoit hummed slightly, then leaned in to kiss it again, pressing the flat of his tongue to the bud and letting his saliva wet the silk, something that should have maybe been disgusting, but instead had Ransom sliding his fingers into Benoit’s hair, resisting the urge to push his head back down. He felt more than heard Benoit chuckle, but the man then pressed in again, allowing his teeth to circle the younger man’s nipple, scrapping his teeth over the bud and leaving a hot, throbbing trail behind. 

“Again!” Ransom pleaded, forgetting his plan to let his partner make all the decisions. He wasn’t sure what it was about his nipples that got him worked up, but as soon as he started to get excited, they responded like they were dials to his dick. Thankfully, his daddy was attentive to his needs and kept going, digging his teeth in a little further while sucking on the bud through the fabric. Shifting his weight, he reached up with his opposite hand to pinch Ransom’s other nipple hard.

He yelped, bucking his hips as his dick began to leak, pre-come likely darkening the panties he wore. “Daddy!” he gasped, not sure if he was asking for something or simply making noise. 

“Good boy. You hold still for me, now.” Benoit whispered, sliding down to kiss his silk-covered belly before lifting the hem enough to see Ransom’s panties. “Stunning.” He added as his sat back and rubbed his thumbs over Ransom’s protruding hipbones.

“Daddy.” He moaned, hips jerking at the desire evident on Benoit’s face. For all the people he’d slept with, none of them had ever looked at him like that, like he was actually perfect; it was almost overwhelming. “Please, daddy. Touch me.” He took one of Benoit’s hands in his own and pressed it to the front of his underwear, which was actually sodden with pre-come; he’d been leaking since almost the start. 

“Anythin’ you want, my boy.” He assured him, but he took another moment to stare at straining fabric, where Ransom’s dick was still contained. “Anythin’ for my good boy.”

His hips jerked again as pleasure flushed through him. “So good, daddy.” He panted. “Always be good for you.”

“Should have taken a picture.” Benoit murmured as he shuffled back enough to slide the panties off. “But these should wash and maybe next time I’ll remember.” 

Benoit shifted back up to lie on top of him, hands caressing his skin, occasionally skimming the camisole but most groping his ass and thighs. Finally he slid a finger in between his cheeks, then paused. “What’s this?” he murmured, lifting his face from Ransom’s neck to grin down at him. “Such a good boy!” 

His daddy flung a hand out to the bedside cabinet, knocking the lamp slightly as he rattled through the top drawer. Stretching his arms up onto the pillow above him, Ransom relaxed as he heard the crinkle of a foil packet, followed by the squirt of lube. However, he opened his eyes to give Benoit an amused look at the older man slid slick fingers into him first. “I already did that.” He pointed out with a grin.

“Maybe your daddy just needs a minute.” Benoit retorted with his own smirk, but Ransom knew he was particular about what pains he would let Ransom experience, and a lack of lube wasn’t one of them.

“Only a minute, right?” He asked, fighting back his laughter to try and look pitiful. 

Benoit remove his fingers and hunched over him. “If I’m going to last more than that.” He stated before pushing in. The slow shifting was like the revving of a four-cylinder engine, the build-up of the pleasure he got from listening to an Alfa Romero that he’d helped to fix as it purred beautifully out the garage, causing him to gasp and tremble in its wake.

Benoit didn’t fuck him with any great speed, didn’t jerk his hips in and out like an inexperienced teenager but, like something that had been built in an earlier time, he moved with skill and confidence and Ransom simply had to buckle in and enjoy the ride as his daddy found his prostrate and nailed it, shifting him into the position he wanted him as Ransom moaned and squirmed beneath him, trying to last.

But it was impossible. He’s been battling arousal since he’d unwrapped the lingerie in the bathroom, or before that even, when he’d been snuggled on the couch with his partner, revelling in his presence after a difficult day. It seemed to take no time at all between Benoit reaching between their bodies for his dick and Ransom howling out his release, but soon he was slumped in the mattress as Benoit moaned above him, eyes drinking him in as the older man finally shuddered with a whisper of “Ransom.” And pressed deeply into his ass as he came. 

He barely noticed as he was wiped down with a cloth and coaxed into sitting so Benoit could strip the top off him too. Instead, he enjoyed the hazy afterglow and dozed off as his lover spooned in behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I had to google sexy car engine sounds for this. It's one of those days I'm glad no one goes through my search history.
> 
> Thanks so much for your comments. It makes me super happy to know you actually like this!


	4. Chapter 4

“I do believe the gamblin’ is a red herring here.” Benoit sighed after a while, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. They had spent the last few days buried deep in the Cunningham Case and he genuinely didn’t think it was an issue of loan sharks. “He was payin’ that money back.”

“Slowly.” Elliot huffed, his own head dipping as he tried to focus. “Maybe you’re right. I feel like the whole gambling thing has something there that needs looking at, but it isn’t what got these two killed.”

“Two separate buckets of possums.” Benoit agreed, running a hand through his hair. There was something fishy going on in one of the gambling houses Paul Cunningham attended so often, but Elliot could do a look into that with his own team rather than Benoit. Instead, the PI was left thinking that the victim’s gambling addiction wasn’t the cause of his murder, partially because it wasn’t out of control; yes, he passed over the credit line on a fairly regular basis, but it was never by large amounts and he simply worked extra hours to make up the difference when needed. The man had been a hard worker who never let his debts get out of control, even if he had never been willing to admit to his wife that he played around with their money in such a way. 

Even so, they were still waiting to hear back from the tech guys for the information on both the victims’ computers, including Paul’s work desk top and Lindsey’s cell phone that had been provided for her work. To be perfectly truthful, Benoit wasn’t sure if Paul was the cause of the whole thing; sure YouTube channels could cause a lot of tension but the one Paul worked at only had a PO Box as the address online, and they didn’t receive any work mail to the building. Instead, he had started looking deeper into the wife’s life, which was becoming more and more curious.

“If I didn’t know that she had hired me, I wouldn’t be able to tell.” He murmured as he began to go through bank statements again. Maybe the tech guys would show something, but in the paper world, she hid her tracks well.

“What are you thinking?” Elliot asked as he stretched in his chair. 

“That we don’t know who else she’s been talkin’ to.”

“Did she call you or email you?”

“We spoke in person. She arrived at my office about a week after that business with the Thrombey’s.”

“Did you ever speak any other way?” Elliot asked, an interested glint coming to light in his eyes as they started down a new thread.

“We did not. She gave me a number to call if there was anything urgent to say, but she wanted contact to be at my office rather than over the phone, or in emails.” He admitted, but it wasn’t too unusual; people felt guilty accusing their partner of cheating and then hiring someone to find out the truth. They often didn’t want to run the risk of being found out and so preferred to speak to him in person at an arranged time.

Elliot tapped his keyboard and his monitor came to life. “So she could have been speaking to others that we don’t know about. Let’s look at her whereabouts for the past few weeks, okay Benny?” He was smiling as he began typing something, clearly relieved to have a fresh point to look at. 

“When will we get here computer records?” He asked, wondering if the tech guys had contacted the Lieutenant Detective when Benoit hadn’t been around. 

“They said hopefully the next day or two. They got into it, but there’s a lot of stuff to go through and it isn’t a big team.”

Benoit’s phone buzzed against his leg before he could reply, and he smiled slightly to see a message from Ransom; the kid had taken his comment about communication to heart and over the past few days had been making an effort to keep in contact. Apparently he was finally going to make the effort and go to visit his mom; the shortness of the message belied his nerves, and Benoit sent him encouragement back. 

‘ _We can celebrate the effort, even if it doesn’t work out. We can go get dinner out before heading back home_.’

‘ _Like a date?_ ’ The reply came pretty quickly, and Benoit hadn’t exactly been thinking of a date so much as a chance to go relax somewhere with a nice atmosphere that was slightly busier than either of their homes, but now that he considered it…?

‘ _Is there anything wrong with wanting to take my boy out? I’m proud of you for making an effort and I want to take you out for a treat._ ’

It was a few minutes before the next reply came. ‘ _I’d like that_.’ Ransom stated, and Benoit smile warmly, able to imagine the boy’s fluster and speechlessness in response to his comment. 

‘ _Make sure you clean up thoroughly and dress nicely. Smart jeans rather than a suit._ ’ He decided quickly on a small, friendly restaurant and excused himself to make coffee and book a table. He wasn’t sure if Ransom needed telling how to dress, but he wanted to make it one less thing for the kid to worry about, just in case. 

Unfortunately, with something to look forward to when he finished, Benoit found that the rest of his day dragged, despite the progress they made. They got into Lindsey Cunningham’s phone records and made note of the different numbers she had been calling, who had been friends, family or businesses, such as her call to the opticians to book a sight test, and how many were numbers that weren’t recognisable. 

“This number…” Elliot commented later in the afternoon. “She called it a bunch of times. Who is it?”

“It is…” He looked over his notes. “A dry-cleaners she was having problems with. They shrank one of her woollen dresses and she’s been tryin’ to get them to pay for a new one.”

“Do we have the address?”

“Somewhere.” Benoit indicated the state of their workspace, which was covered in papers and folders and empty coffee cups. “I think we should speak to the people on the end of this number too. They said they run a charity shop where people donate clothes and other items to help them raise money for veterans.”

“You don’t think that’s true?” 

“I’m not sure.” He began to search for the addresses. “Maybe it is but maybe it is just a cover. A lot of comings and goings at a charity shop; folk can bring carrier bags in and leave them, or can go in empty handed and come out with something.”

“That is how a charity shop works.” Elliot pointed out, but his tone sounded like he was considering Benoit’s idea. “People donate stuff and they buy other stuff. They’ll have records to prove it.”

“I want to see if they have enough to stay afloat.” He said, desperately hoping this wouldn’t take the full day. He wanted to get things wrapped up nicely so that he had time to clean up before going out; he’d booked the table for eight, but the place served food until ten so he could always change it if needed. Ransom had never complained yet about his hours running over. “Or if they are getting money in from somewhere else to run things.”

“They’ll have records.” Elliot stated again, but he was starting to tidy up his desk. “It’s a charity so they’ll be able to show what they keep and what goes to help the veterans they encounter.”

“If much goes to the veterans. A charity that helps children? You get all sorts of photographs, but for veterans? People are more willing to accept that they are private people who don’t want to be visibly documented in accepting help.” He buttoned up his coat and tugged on his gloves, glancing out the window at the heavy sky; yesterday had been slightly warmer, but the temperatures had dropped below freezing again and the wind was howling; he was expecting more snow.

“I hate this.” Elliot sighed and at Benoit’s glance he clarified “Accussing a charity of being a cover? Talking to people who are going to just tell us to get a warrant if we want to look at anything… or how about the weather? Take your pick… I should move somewhere milder.”

“I quite like the sound of crunchin’ snow.” Benoit replied with a hint of a smile as they headed out the door and towards the parking lot. “And we are only talkin’ about Mrs Cunningham with them and why she was so eager to call.”

“They’re going to lie.” Elliot grouched as he unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. “You know they are.”

Benoit chuckled, but didn’t disagree as they set out.

\------

Ransom stared at the notes he had made on his cell, trying to figuring out a natural way to bring the points he wanted raise into the conversation with his mom. She still hadn’t replied and he wasn’t sure if she was too angry with him, too busy with work or too occupied with Harlan (not that she had been there either of the times that he had been to visit, but he had only been twice). 

His head was so full of thoughts that he hadn’t dared drive his car down the icy streets; he didn’t have the money spare anymore to repair her if he crashed so he hadn’t even tried. Maybe his mom had been talking to his dad, he mused as he stared at the trees by the road; they had always seemed happy together, even though his dad did tend to get worked up over the pre-nup when he’d had a drink on his own. But his mom? Sure, she had punched him in the face when she’d found out about his affair, but she had always been of the opinion that marriages should last. That they should be treated as a serious commitment and only broken if the damage was irreparable. 

At least that was what she had always told him, that the pre-nup was there to stop Richard from running off at the first little sign of trouble and demanding a divorce. She wanted a marriage that would last, where problems could be discussed rationally rather than in a screaming match. But then, there had never been evidence of an affair before or if there had, they had never told him about it.

“It’s left here.” He said softly to the driver, curling in on himself as he fought to find his arrogant side, that well of confidence that was usually so easy to access around his family; they were assholes so it was simple to show that front of himself too. 

But this was just his mom… his mom after her husband had had an affair and her brother had attempted to murder their father.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to find. 

“Thanks.” He murmured, tapping his card to the machine to pay and carefully clambering out. She hadn’t salted the drive so the thick ice that had started to melt yesterday had frozen over again into a death trap.

He waited for the car to leave, not wanting any witnesses to his humiliation if she slammed to door in his face and refused to speak to him, then carefully made his way up the steps to the house and pressed the bell.

“Ransom?” His mom opened the door, and her face showed an honest expression of surprise before it smoothed over into a slight smile; he wasn’t entirely sure if it was real or not so he simply waited nervously. “Well, are you coming in?” she stepped back and he came in, shutting the door behind himself. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

And didn’t that make him feel like he was intruding. “Well, maybe if you checked your email, you’d know I wanted to talk.” He half-snarled back, instantly left trying to keep hold of his temper. “You didn’t reply.” 

She angled her body towards him and patted his shoulder, as close as she was willing to get to hugging him, he supposed, and he removed some of his layers as she stepped into the front lounge. 

He headed through into the kitchen and began to set the coffee machine going, knowing already that she wouldn’t offer to make him a drink. 

“I’ve been busy.” She pointed out as she leaned against the doorframe, as striking as ever in her suit, forest green today.

“It’s been a week since you checked your emails? Really?” He gave her a patronising smile, because he knew fine well she checked the daily. She just hadn’t wanted to talk to him; he should have known.

He turned away as he felt his face fall at this realisation, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and standing with his back to her as he waited for the coffee to brew. He crackled the ceramic handle off when she touched his elbow, a curious expression on her face as she looked up at him.

“Ransom?” She said, her voice softer than he’d heard it in a long time, and he realised his eyes were watering. His lip curled as anger flooded through him, she’d only said his name, but it made him feel like some kind of pathetic child. “What’s wrong?”

‘You hate me.’ Was the first thought that came to mind, but he couldn’t open his mouth to speak, his emotions teetering on the edge as he debated what to say. He forced his eyes away from the hissing coffee machine and down to meet his mom’s. 

She sighed softly and brought a hand up to rest on his shoulder. “You’ve been out the loop, haven’t you? Dad said you’ve been to see him, but no one else has heard from you.” She took the broken mug from him and dropped it into the bin, then grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and poured them both a drink. She added a spoon of sugar to each, and a drop of milk to her own before handing Ransom’s mug over and leading him through to the front lounge. He took a moment to follow, genuinely surprised that she had remembered how he liked his coffee. 

Soon enough, he wandered through and sank into the cushions on the couch, trying to suppress the nerves that were bouncing him between tears and anger. 

“You know, the best thing we ever did was hire Lucy.” His mom said after a few moments, causing Ransom to look up at the non-sequitur.

“Who?” He raised his brow, wondering if she had a new PA. 

“Your nanny, for about eight years. She left when you hit twelve and started throwing stuff when you got worked up, but she was wonderful with you before that.”

“Huh… can’t say I remember.” He had vague memories of things from when he was little; he could remember playing cops and robbers with someone in the garden, scraping his knee on the bush when he had taken a dive to hide, and thinking of a nanny made him think of that, but he wasn’t sure if it was the same person at all. The smell of roses always made him think of playing in their old garden, which had been massive, just like the smell of talcum powder always made him think of his Grandma, who had always coated him in the stuff after he’d had a bath when he had stayed over her and Harlan’s house as a child. 

“She taught you to leave a room when you got angry.” His mom explained, staring into her mug. “You used to get into such a state, even as a child, where you’d end up in tears because you couldn’t explain what was annoying you so much. Lucy always told you to leave the room if you got like that.”

“Hide me away.” He muttered with a roll of his eyes, because his mom had always been ashamed of his anger issues, especially when they had had people over.

“No. She said it was better for you to leave in case it was someone in the room you were angry with, or if something was happening to upset you.” She sipped her drink before looking over at him. “And it worked. You left the room and could take the time to calm down, which meant you could talk again. But she was the one who told us that you lose control when you get worked up.”

“And then I started throwing stuff and she left.” 

“Well, she had been planning to leave anyway. She’d saved up enough to go to college but hadn’t wanted to leave straight away.” But his mom didn’t disagree, so he suspected he had scared this person off. “And in middle school, and in high school, we got a lot of calls that you had stood up and walked out the classroom to stalk around the corridors.” She continued. “And I do wonder how much trouble you might have been in if you hadn’t been taught to walk away when you got angry.”

“Still do it now.” He admitted with a shrug, remembering the night of Harlan’s party when his Grandad had told him he’d been cut out of the will. He’d been so angry that he had walked straight into Walt and snarled something at him on his hurry to get to his car.

Of course, he suspected that he had mentioned something about Marta getting everything to his uncle which had caused the man to overreact, he’d been thinking that for a few weeks now but he honestly couldn’t remember. When he felt the mist of anger coming down, he knew to get out as quickly as possible because he honestly did lose control. 

“I know.” His mom said softly. “So different from Richard and I. When we bottle things up, they fester slowly and poison everything. Your bottled emotions don’t get the chance to go sour because they just explode out.”

He decided to get his real question out of the way and shut his eyes as he asked “D- Do you hate me?” He spoke quickly, stuttering over his words in his haste to get them out.

“What?” She jerked back as though he had slapped her, her mouth going slack as she frowned. “Why would you…?” But she didn’t finish.

Ransom put his half-empty mug on the side as he was trembling enough that he was worried about spilling, then he forced himself to look his mother in the eyes. “I’m the one who told Walt about Marta inheriting everything when Grandad dies.” He said hoarsely, his breath coming in shorter pants as his guilt came to the foreground. “Grandad told me and when I left, I think I told him. Then he killed Fran and tried to kill Grandad and tried to kill Marta.” Not that he had even sorted of liked Fran, but she had been around for nearly twenty years, so she had dealt with him as a stroppy pre-teen, and as an emotional teenager, and as a young man caught up in the cool fads. She had been a bitch but he had always responded in kind.

“Ransom…” His mom put her mug down and folded her arms over her chest, curling in on herself slightly to look painfully vulnerable, so much so that Ransom looked away. “Ransom, what happened with Walt? That wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head. “If… if I hadn’t said, then… he wouldn’t have…” and she could say it wasn’t his fault, but she had cut him off as a response. She had left him without any money so he had lost his friends, and he’d sold his home, and he had to start taking money off Callen and Tyler, even though they didn’t have a lot to spare, and he now had to work out carefully what he could afford, and skip meals when he couldn’t. And he found it hard to complain to anyone but Benoit (who had somehow broken through his defences) because he honestly knew he deserved something; not prison or anything because he hadn’t conspired with Walt or anything, but _something._

“Dad said he had fired Walt that night.” His mom had moved to sit on the same couch as him, not quite touching him, but close by. “Walt knew he wasn’t getting the publishing house anyway. Ransom?” She waited for a moment then reached out and lifted his chin so he could look at her through the tears that had started to fall. “Ransom, it wasn’t your fault. I could ring your Grandad and get him to tell you the same thing, or Marta. And Marta said Fran knew Walt was to blame for what was going on, she tried to tell her but Marta thought she was saying ‘What’ instead of ‘Walt’.”

He tugged his head out of her hand and pressed his hands to his face, trying to muffle the sound of his sobbing. He hated crying; he got disgusting and blotchy when he cried and the noise was horrendous. He should have only asked if his mom would agree to start talking to him again, and then he should have just apologised for making a mistake in his anger. The helplessness that took over did nothing to stop his crying, and the anger that kept bubbling up had nothing to stand on and kept getting washed away by another wave of emotion. 

He shifted to press his face to his knees and cover the sides of his head with his hands, trying to contain the headache that was splitting his skull. 

Walt would have done it anyway, though. 

It wasn’t his _fault._

The concepts barely made sense in his head as he registered his mom pressing against his side with an arm stretched over his back, just managing to curl around his opposite shoulder. The guilt he had barely acknowledged he had been feeling left a void in his chest, and he rested his head to his knees and he fought for control, gasping desperately as he noticed how unbearably hot he was, his t-shirt sticking to his skin under his sweater. 

“Sorry.” He whispered, his voice croaking badly as his mom hung on for a moment longer.

“Me too.” She responded, surprising Ransom. “I said you should try standing on your own two feet, but I didn’t even check if you were managing.”

He shrugged, not really sure what to say and painfully embarrassed about how he had acted. 

“L-Long as we’re okay.” He said quietly, smiling when she nodded. “Then I’m gonna call a taxi and head out.”

“I’ll drive you.” She stood and headed to the pantry in the kitchen, where the keys were all kept. “I just need a coat.” 

But it wasn’t until they had actually set off that Ransom realised he was going to have to admit something else to her a second time, as she hadn't read his email yet.

“I don’t… I sold my house. I live near the outskirts of town now.”

“You sold your house?” His mom’s jaw dropped as she glanced over at him, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Why? You loved that house! You sent us so many photos when you got it.”

“I live in Chestnut Drive now.” He said, unwilling to discuss money with her. He didn’t want her to think he was a child, unable to manage and he didn’t want to have to explain his life to her. But she also wasn’t wrong; his home had been gorgeous, especially in the snow, with its large windows and elegant style, but warm and comfortable interior. With no neighbours, he recalled bitterly; he’d never had to listen to other people’s music through the walls before. He shut his eyes and wrapped his arms over his belly as he thought about it, then tried to dismiss it. No use getting caught up in stuff that was over and done with.

He just wanted to go home and rest before he went out with Benoit in three and a half hours.

“Okay.” She sighed, but had clearly recognised his reluctance. “Is the next right the best way?”

“Not in the snow. Keep going on here.”

He leaned his head back against the headrest and watched the sky as snowflakes began to fall in a wild flurry, stirred up by the wind.

\------

It was as cold and silent as the grave by the time Benoit left his apartment to walk to the restaurant. It was far closer to Ransom’s place, but he didn’t want to drive unless he really needed to, and the winds had died down from a deafening howl to a mere groan. Wrapped up, he crunched his way down the street, enjoying the atmosphere; he loved winter, the snow, the way half the population disappeared when the weather deteriorated. 

The case was looking like it would be wrapped up in the next few days, with a man arrested for the Cunningham’s murder already. They had started out looking in the wrong area, thinking the husband had been the one with the connection to the murderer, but when they had looked at the wife, the pieces had come together nicely. Lindsey Cunningham had been planning a bargain romantic break away with her husband, likely as an unspoken apology for suspecting him (according to her friend), but the people she had spoken to about it had taken her money without booking anything, so she had been desperately trying to get the money back without her husband knowing. She had made threats and promises and borrowed money and gotten herself caught up in a web that she couldn’t escape and it had gotten the couple killed. 

He sighed as he turned down into a side street, heading towards the little, family-run restaurant that was tucked out the way of the usually busy street, but his frowned shifted to a smile when he saw Ransom waiting outside for him, trying to stamp the build-up of snow from his boots.

“Hey.” Ransom greeted with a smile as Benoit approached, allowing himself to be pulled into an embrace.

Benoit pressed a soft kiss to his lips before stepping back. “Shall we?” He gestured and opened the door for Ransom to get inside.

“Did you walk? Your face is freezing.” The young man asked as they were led to a table.

He nodded as he sat down and accepted a menu with a murmur of thanks. “I didn’t want to risk the drive.” He explained simply, as he hung his coat over the back of a spare chair and unwound his scarf.

“Huh… Me either. I walked, well I slid my way here.” Ransom gave him a wry grin. “Even with decent boots, it’s a little icy out.” He looked down at his menu and his grin widened. “Indian, shit I sure am hungry.”

“I like it here.” Benoit glanced down at his menu, already knowing what he wanted. “It’s a little out of my way, but worth the visit all the same.”

“It’s only a five-ten minute walk from mine.” Ransom put his menu down, scratching his jaw as he grinned. “Well, it’s a little longer in this weather.”

“You like the snow?” He asked as he flagged the waiter down.

“When I don’t have to go out in it. It’s pretty to look at, but I broke my wrist slipping on the ice a few years ago, so I go slow now.” 

They gave their orders and settled in, the warm atmosphere helping Benoit relax.

“Good day?” Ransom asked, tugging at the cuff of his knitted sweater as he raised his brow. “You look happy.”

Benoit couldn’t help the slight chuckle. “I would be smilin’ even if it had been a bad day. Like I will when I see the spring flowers comin’ through after all this cold weather.” And he meant it. He genuinely enjoyed spending time with his boy, and he was hoping they would be able to start going out on proper dates too without Ransom getting too skittish; which he definitely had been at first, not wanting to be seen coming or going from Benoit’s because he wasn’t sure if people would judge him. “I like seein’ you.”

A pleasant flush had spread over the young man’s cheeks, and he was grinning bashfully as he continued to twist the wool between his fingers.

“But the day has gone well.” He deflected for him and watched his boy relax again. “Things are getting’ sorted and I can head over to my own office look at things properly.”

“Before Christmas?” Ransom asked, a little too casually.

Benoit took a moment to look at him, taking in his expression. “I don’t have much family left. I can’t say I do much for it.” His parents had both died years ago and his sister lived in Delaware with her husband, their kids and their granddaughter; he usually took a few days in summer to go and visit, when travel conditions were better. But it meant that for the last few years he had spent Christmas day in the office, catching up on paperwork when no one was phoning him or sending emails. Going to the midnight mass at the Church he’d attended as a child and young man was as close to a celebration as he got.

“Mom said they are going out for Christmas dinner and that I can come if I want.” He said in a rush.

“Do you want?” He asked curiously. “And is ‘they’ your parents or some other members of your family?” The Thrombey’s weren’t a terribly agreeable family, so he wasn’t sure if Ransom would want to go or not.

“Mom and Dad are meeting up tomorrow, so if they work things out then both of them or if not then just Mom, but it should be with everyone. So Joni and Meg will be there, and so will Donna and Jacob, because they are still family, apparently.” Ransom gave a little shrug, as though he wasn’t bothered about them one way or the other. “Grandad if he is well enough and Nana.” The boy shifted, bringing a hand up to his mouth to nibble at a thumb nail.

“Will you go?” He asked, sensing his partner’s indecision. 

“I don’t know.” He sighed and tucked his chewed digits into an armpit. “I just…” He sighed again, shifting in his seat and looking around. “Mom said that it’s not my fault and that if I ask everyone, they would agree.”

“Not your fault…?” He frowned, genuinely puzzled for a moment. “Your uncle’s actions?” He guessed.

Ransom nodded. “It was… I told him that Marta was getting everything, that Grandad had changed his will.” Ransom’s voice cracked and he hunched in on himself, as though trying got make himself smaller. “So… and then I left, and Walt…”

Benoit got up from his chair and slid onto the bench beside Ransom, pulling him into a hug. His partner turned towards him, tucking his face into his neck as he continued to draw shuddering breaths, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. 

“Mom said it’s not my fault and she has a point but…” His voice got higher, then cracked again, but Ransom stayed where he was, with his face hidden. “It feels like my fault. They all hate me anyway so I don’t want to go ask them what they th-think. What would you do?”

Benoit was silent for a moment as he thought; Ransom wasn’t wrong in that a lot of his family barely tolerated him, but he’d also seen the shift in his boy’s attitude when he was around them. His humorous, relaxed personality became sharp and pointed around them, built up like a stinging shield to keep his real self safe from them. From the conversations he had had with Marta though, it sounded as though Harlan was actually very fond of his oldest grandson, she said they often had arguments which held no anger that they both enjoyed, and that while Harlan worried his grandson had no understanding of the real world, he wanted the best for him.

“I wouldn’t go.” He admitted softly, and felt the young man relax in his embrace at the words. “I would go see your Grandad again and talk to him, and see your mom even if it isn’t on Christmas day but face the others another time.” He had a feeling they could all start a fight with an empty house, and Ransom turning up to say he’d given Walt another excuse to act as he did would not go down well, regardless of the fact that Ransom held none of the blame. “And if the guilt doesn’t go away, book in to talk to someone about that.”

He could have grinned when he felt Ransom’s face twist at the thought of talking to a stranger, but even a few sessions of therapy would do him good. Benoit had been to talk to someone years ago, after a case went drastically wrong and he had barely been able to think for the guilt he’d layered up on himself, smothered like a person out in the cold, windy streets tonight, but the talking had helped. 

“Maybe.” Ransom sighed, sniffing as he pulled back. “Second time today I’ve… I swear, I’m not usually so emotional.”

‘I’m honoured you trust me enough to show me this side’ was what he thought, but he knew Ransom wouldn’t react well to such a blunt statement. “Anytime.” He replied instead. “And I do mean anytime.” He ran his fingers through the kid’s hair, tidying it up. “I’m not scared of emotions.” He added, deciding that Ransom probably needed that clarifying. 

“Is there a bathroom? I wanna wash my face.” Ransom asked and his skin was pink and blotchy from crying. 

Benoit pointed over to the door near the front of the restaurant, smiling fondly as he watched his partner shuffle out and head over to it. His chest could have burst with how proud he was that Ransom had actually gone out and spoken to his mom, especially if he’d been feeling guilty from the events of nearly six weeks ago. 

Guilt… It hadn’t even occurred to him that Ransom would be feeling guilty about anything, but he had uncovered when speaking to the family that Ransom had been furious when he had felt the party, walking into his uncle on his way out and snarling something about how everyone had been written out of the will and Marta was going to get it all instead. It was how he had connected Walt to being the one who had tried to frame Harlan’s murder on the young nurse, because only two people had known she was set to inherit everything, which had resulted in the older man sneaking up the stairs to switch the labels on Harlan’s medicine bottles. They’d worked out that the man must have switched them during the party, but he had failed to take the antidote away so Marta had been able to save the writer, even though he had fallen into a coma.

But the housekeeper had noticed Walt sneaking off and had accused him of attempting to murder Harlan the next day, without telling the police. He’d killed her in an act of desperation and the evidence had been simple to uncover. 

“Hey. I have your food?” The server looked at the two plates then up at Benoit, who nodded and took one off him; they got younger every time he came out. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“Two beers, please.” He replied as the young server put the other one down. “Cold ones.” He added with a smirk. 

“Draft?”

“If it’s cold.”

“Just about everything is right now.” The server joked as he nodded, scribbling it down on a small pad and heading off.

Warm beer just didn’t taste right, no matter the weather outside. And Ransom would likely appreciate something to help cool him down as he’d been all in a fluster when he had headed off.

It took a few minutes for their beer to arrive, and Ransom slid back onto the bench just after. Benoit grinned and passed a glass over to him as their thighs pressed together, he was hardly going to shift back to his original seat on the other side of the table now; this was much cosier. 

“Enjoy.” He said to his boy before tucking in, the walk through the streets had made him realise his hunger and the food smelled like perfection.

They ate in silence, accompanied only by the soft music playing in the restaurant and it took them very little time to reach the end of their meal. Ransom sighed and allowed himself to be pulled close, his usual reticence in public dulled by the good food, the quiet restaurant and the warm atmosphere as he shifted down enough to rest his head on Benoit’s shoulder.

“Dessert?” he asked softly, and felt his boy shake his head.

“I’m good, thanks.”

He nodded, gently stroking up and down his arm. When the server took the plates he asked for the bill, hoping Ransom wasn’t falling asleep when they still had a walk to get back home.

“How much?” He yawned, reaching for his coat when it arrived, but Benoit shook his head.

“My treat. Said I was takin’ you on a date and that means I pay.” But he leaned over to kiss the young man softly, his tongue tracing his lips before he pulled back. “Ready?” 

“It’s snowing again.” Ransom noted, but he stood up and began tugging his layers back on.

“Best get home and settled in then.” He responded with a smirk as he pulled his own coat and scarf on, then headed off to pay.

The walk home was, in a word, romantic; the snow gave the town an other-worldly feel, as though there was no one around but the two of them as they carefully stepped back to Ransom’s, hands clasped as they moved slowly.

“So…” Ransom said as they turned onto Chestnut Drive. “I was wondering if you want to do something Christmas day.”

“With me?” He slowed to a stand-still as the snow continued to flurry down around them. “You’re not going to spend it with your family then?”

“Not this time.” He shook his head. “I’ll see Mom and Grandad during the week, but if I could pick someone to spend the day with then I’d pick you.” He shrugged at him, his thick shoulders shifting under the heavy fabric of his coat as Benoit squinted up at him through the falling snow. 

“Sounds ideal to me.” He decided, pulling his boy down to kiss him, not caring that they were out in the street at all. 

Ransom had said that he wanted a serious relationship and while Benoit wasn’t willing to try and rush him into something he wasn’t ready for, it was a pleasant feeling indeed when he considered how far they had come in the six weeks since they had met. He was looking forward to the future with this young man by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I loved this movie and just had to add something into this part of AO3 for it.


End file.
